


centennial (a collection of stolen century shorts)

by theoneswhohavefallen



Category: TAZ: Balance - Fandom, The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Episode: e060-066 The Stolen Century Parts 1-7, F/F, IPRE, M/M, This is a oneshot collection so there will be a lot of stuff, tags will be updated as each chapter goes up!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-29 01:06:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18297287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoneswhohavefallen/pseuds/theoneswhohavefallen
Summary: The crew of the Starblaster faced a hundred years of challenges and joys in equal measure. This is my take on what some of those moments that we didn't see, might have been like.These will be one-shots of all shapes and sizes, spanning the whole of the Stolen Century arc. They will be cute, angsty, fluffy, dramatic, and everything in between. I'll try to give a short idea of what each one-shot is in a quick note at the beginning, as well as an idea of what cycle it took place in, just to make the timeline less confusing.





	centennial (a collection of stolen century shorts)

**Author's Note:**

> You ever think about the person who decided on who would be in the Starblaster's crew, and how they never could have imagined what would happen to them, or that they would go on to save the known universe? I do, and I wonder what was going through their heads when they picked out of the many qualified individuals a punk 20-something kid, a nervous biographer, an ex-hermit botanist cleric, a stern pilot, a pair of elven twins with amazing fashion senses and a terrifying amount of magical prowess, and a sweet, curious scientist...

A woman in a bright red coat sat in an empty conference room, slowly looking through the files that the scientists had left for her to read. There were hundreds of them, of all different kinds: personality profiles, interview transcripts, academic records, medical histories, recommendation letters from an infinite variety of sources and research papers in every scientific discipline.

Even with only a few days' notice given, they had hundreds of applicants, and a huge pile of paperwork for each one, even after the initial skimming done by the scientists to take out those who were unqualified. And now, the remaining applications were left to her to read, examine, and then decide on the small number of them who would become the crew of the Institute of Planar Research and Development's first interplanar voyage.  
  
She sighed, and momentarily removed her glasses, placing them on the table and massaging her temples, exhausted even by the idea of reading everything before her. The long conference table was nearly entirely filled—there were only a few spaces where you could see the glass surface in between the neat stacks of papers.

Officially, her object was to look through these profiles and find those who would best serve the Institute—no easy task. These were the brightest minds and bravest hearts of their world, each with the highest of credentials and the most glowing recommendations by their peers. She would be weighing accomplishments, reading their research, studying their interviews, and simply looking for the best of them.

But as a leader, her job was also to ensure that the hand-selected crew would get along—would understand the importance of their job, but also understand each other. They'd spend nearly half a year in training, and then months together in the farthest reaches of the planes—if they became combative or uncooperative under pressure, it could destroy the mission.

She had a lot of work to do.

So she took a deep breath, slipped her glasses back up her nose, and began looking through the files.

They were, undoubtedly, an impressive bunch. The applicants spanned every imaginable profession, every cultural background, and several generations, even notwithstanding the lifespan differences between the various races. Many of them were scholars, all of whom boasted high accolades—they were top ten graduates at their school, winners of various academic honors, authors of celebrated, or even revolutionary papers...

She was barely a dozen profiles in when one such paper caught her eye.

It was a theoretical experiment conducted a year or two ago at an astrological symposium—there was nothing concrete, nor was it even claiming to be entirely factual; it was simply a theory that was being played out over a series of projections. And the paper itself had no frills—it was very concise, simply worded, a welcome break after reading several twenty-page descriptions of experiments. The theory discussed the possible science of inter-planar travel, and how that could be made possible. It was wholly theoretical, making quavering ventures into quantum mechanics at certain points, and all-in-all, impressive for a scientist of about twenty-seven, but not anything concrete. Easily dismissable as pure conjecture.

Except for the fact that he was  _right._

The Institute had been doing research into planar travel for a few months, now. And they had uncovered, with the help of the Light of Creation, what was needed to accomplish it. And, though the paper sitting in front of her was a very rough approximation, it was, in its general idea, entirely correct. The author had been able to map out the plan for the Institute's greatest venture months before any of the scientists could have even conceived of it.

She always wrote out the names and positions of potential crew in pencil, to make room for editing and changing, but she was fairly sure this one would not need any revision.

_"Science Officer: Barry J. Bluejeans."_

Just as she was setting the paper aside, placing it neatly next to her, there was a knock on the door.

"Administrator Vallen?" A young man stuck his head through the door, red-faced and sweaty.

"Yes?" The woman sighed, sitting up straight once more.

"We brought up more papers," he sounded slightly embarrassed. "Where should we..." he gestured at the table, still very much filled, with only perhaps a fourth of them stacked away, already looked through.

Vallen sighed, "Just leave them in the box, over by the door. I'll bring them out myself."

"Sure thing, Administrator."

With no small amount of effort, the young man dragged in a cardboard box full of more files that was probably half as tall as he was, and just as wide. Trying to ignore the sound of dragging and grunting effort, as well as the fact that she'd have to unpack those and look through them as well, Vallen turned back to her files.

After another hour of poring through these, Vallen had found three potential pilots—a deeply important position to fill, obviously. She was caught between an elf who had been a pilot for more than fifty years and had done numerous dangerous flights across-world, a human who had just left flight training as valedictorian and had dozens of job offers already, and a thirty-something gnome who had graduated from an arcane academy with highest honors, and then immediately threw himself into pilot's training, and in only a few years earned nearly every medal offered by the Aileron Guild.

The elf had the most experience, for sure. But experience wasn't the end-all, be-all in this case. Fifty years flying commercial aircraft in their mostly-peaceful world might not mean anything when facing the gauntlets of space travel. Of course, the Institute wasn't expecting any danger to the lives of this crew—but caution was always needed when heading into the unknown, and space... well, space was the greatest unknown of all. There was a reason that 'security officer' was one of the listed crew positions.

The human was promising. Her file was accompanied by several glowing letters from her superiors, praising her adaptability and leadership skills, and her records were nearly flawless. Her interviews, however, were less so. Her interviewer wrote that she seemed uninterested, even bored, at the prospect of space travel. It seemed her true passion lay elsewhere, in an entirely different field, and that she was only a pilot because of outside pressure. A pity, as she seemed to be quite good at it.

Now, the third...

In the Institute, it was fairly common knowledge that pilots were often named the captain of their mission (minus a few exceptions here and there) for the sake of uniformity across missions. Leadership skills were inherently important to the job. And in this case, as Vallen knew, so was adaptability.

The Aileron Guild was mostly populated by stunt pilots. Those with aerobatic skills and experiences often rested high in the ranks of the elite guild, wowing their inferiors with their control over their aircraft even while performing nigh-impossible maneuvers. Looking through the list of medals that the applicant had earned painted a very impressive picture of his maneuvering abilities. He also had near-flawless school records, from both his arcane college and his pilot's training, and several letters praising his leadership ability. His interviews portrayed him as a stern man, dedicated to his craft, and interested in pursuing knowledge of the outer planes.

Another name filled one of the blank spaces on Vallen's paper.

_"Mission Captain: G. Davenport."_

The next time someone's file intrigued her, it wasn't because of the file itself, but because of a sticky note that someone had surreptitiously pressed onto the front of it. The yellow square of paper was fairly innocuous, especially in an office environment, but in the sea of tan and white covering the table, it seemed almost like a flare. The note had words scrawled across it rapidly in pencil:

_Vallen: I know we're not supposed to write in extra notes or recommendations, but I thought you should see this. —Bess_

"Interesting..." Vallen murmured as she took the file back to her chair and laid out its contents. Bess was one of the dozens of interviewers the Institute had assigned to try and gauge the personalities of their applicants. She was a secretary to several of the higher-ups, and Vallen knew her personally, regarding her to be a kindly, very wise lady. If she had strong enough feelings about an applicant to want to notify the Administrator... well, Vallen would at least give this applicant a chance.

The applicant was looking for a job as a security official, one of several dozen vying for the position. He didn't seem to be really anything special—a young man of twenty, with an impressive amount of formal fighter training. Still, amidst applicants with vast military histories, years of civil service, or extensive security experience, his training, frankly, left him slightly behind.

However, the  _dozens_ of letters, written by everyone from fellow trainees to his teachers, placed him miles above the rest.

_"He's one of the bravest men I've ever met, if not the bravest."_

_"His brazen streak sometimes has him toeing the line, but even so, I'd trust him with my life."_

_"He has nothing but the highest regard for the safety of his companions."_

_"He's a good friend, and a better fighter. If you want security, he's the best man for the job."_

And his interview... well. Vallen could see why Bess wanted him. He was a confident young man, eager to explore, and quite light-hearted, if his constant attempt at humor was any indication. His answer to the final question, the one that was asked of all applicsnts, was certainly intriguing.

_(Institute.Bess.): Why are you applying for a position on board the Starblaster?_

_(Applicant.Magnus.) : It sounds like it's an important thing to do—what you're doing here. Looking for something more than what we already know. And if this is an important thing to do, the people doing it need to be safe. And that's what I do. I protect people._

_(Institute.Bess.): Thank you, Mr. Burnsides. That will be all._

Vallen smiled. "Thank you indeed, Mr. Burnsides," she said, as she wrote down a third name.

_"Security Officer: Magnus Burnsides."_

With three major positions filled, Vallen was starting to feel as though she was actually accomplishing something—a welcome feeling that began to replace the hopelessness she'd felt earlier, looking over the sea of potential Institute members. In fact, she'd almost cleared enough of them that she could start going through the box, still filled, that waited ominously a few feet from the door. Still, even that didn't seem so daunting, with half the crew already chosen.

Which is why it was quite disheartening when she started to hallucinate.

She thought she was hallucinating, anyway, when she came across the twins' files. Seeing double, to be precise, as that was the only possible way for her to have two identical files sitting in front of her.

It wasn't possible for someone to enter two applications. The Institute made thorough screenings to be sure no one entered more than one application, went to more than one interview, or did anything to otherwise cheat the system.

But for the sake of all the gods, even the  _handwriting_ was the same.

She flipped through the files, looking from one to the other, searching for  _something_ to differentiate between the two. And when she found it, she sighed in relief.

At the back of each file was a photo, taken for identification purposes, that would serve as the photo for the ID badge when they needed to come to the Institute for interviews, or for formal induction, if they were chosen for the final crew.

These two applications were not filled out by the same person. They were filled out by twins. Elven identical twins, to be precise, who each gave Vallen the same smirk from their photo.

Convinced that she wasn't, in fact, hallucinating, Vallen was able to look through their files. And she was very, very impressed. They had the same credentials all the way through, and those credentials claimed them to be almost terrifyingly adept wizards. Specializing in transmutation and evocation respectively, Taako and Lup had graduated from honors programs at the most acclaimed arcane academy in the world, and had been referred to the Institute directly by their headmaster.

The mission only required one Arcana Officer, and Vallen had a very difficult time choosing between them—especially since, judging by their interviews, they regarded themselves as a package deal. Following her best judgement, Vallen wrote down both of their names on her paper.

_"Arcana Officers: Taako Taaco and Lup Taaco."_

It was almost midnight when Vallen found the next person. The woman was one among perhaps two dozen who had come looking for a position as a record-keeper. Everything about her profile: her interviews, her records, even her credentials were simple and understated. She was a human woman who was extraordinarily young for having written so many books—her bibliography came with her application, and it was nearly a dozen pages long. It appeared that this young woman of about twenty-two or so had ghost-written every biography of a major figure published in the last four to five years. Since she was a non-fiction writer, she was absolutely a valuable resource, but it was her interview (and once again, the answer to the final question) that sealed the deal.

_(Institute.Karin.): Why are you applying for a position on board the Starblaster?_

_(Applicant.Lucretia.): I think I'm very qualified for the job. And... it seems like... this is a story that is going to be worth telling._

"I certainly hope it will be," Vallen murmured, to no one in particular, as she wrote the sixth name down.

_"Chronicler: Lucretia B."_

She had two more positions to fill now, and, technically, only one space left. Though provisions could be made to compensate for an extra member, so far everything had been optimized for seven members, and the scientists, she knew, were going to have trouble re-working their careful plans. Now, having looked through all of the files on the table, and made her way through nearly all of the extra ones packed into the huge box, she was absolutely loath to edit her careful selections—to try and decide between the twins, or, if she couldn't, either remove one of the other crew and try to find a mix of two more positions, or find a new Arcana Officer entirely. And, though the others were impressive, none of them quite struck her as much as the twins. Or any of the crew, really. She'd kept her eraser ready the whole time she pored through the rest of the papers, ready to edit her decisions. But she never found anyone she quite liked as much as Lucretia, Magnus, Davenport, Taako, Lup, and Barry.

So now, she had two jobs left and one position to fill them both... and it was almost three in the morning.

Vallen stifled a yawn as she pulled another five files out from the box, muttering to herself, "Where am I going to find a botanist _and_  a physician?"

A miracle fell out of the pile in her arms and crashed into her feet with a painful  _whump._

"Ow!" Vallen winced, inching over to the table to dump the rest of the files before she walked back to retrieve the errant stack of papers, her toes aching.

"What on earth?" Her brows furrowed at the file, which was strangely shaped and wrapped in rubber bands. She undid the bands, opening the thick manila folder, and something fell out, hitting the floor with a soft  _thump_ on the thick carpet.

Vallen bent down to retrieve it, and in her hand, she found a lovely piece of woodcarving—no, not carved. Examining it closer, Vallen realized that it wasn't carved. It was magically crafted, made by coaxing thin branches into the desired shape. It was certainly a very impressive job of druidcraft, and, as she slowly realized upon looking through the rest of the applicant's files, it was, quite possibly, a literal godsend.

The applicant was a cleric who grew up in a small enclave of Pan worshipers, who left his home to, according to his interviews, "do some good in the world," and had experience in both medicine and nature. His druidcrafted symbol was, in fact, the holy symbol of Pan, that he had made and decided to send in to show some of his proficiencies outside the typical cleric domain of healer. In essence, the forty-something, bearded, carefree dwarf was  _exactly_ what Vallen needed.

Her heart beating quickly, Vallen wrote down the seventh and final name on her list.

_"Physician/Botanist: Merle Highchurch."_

As the sun began to rise, Vallen didn't even feel tired, racing out of the conference room with a skip in her step and a beaming smile on her face. She headed downstairs, ready to greet the scientists coming in for the morning shift with the news that they were finally,  _finally_ ready to begin the greatest venture in the entire history of the Institute, and, possibly, of the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is! Number one of several one-shots about the lives of the Starblaster crew. Because I love them, a lot.
> 
> If you're wondering why I didn't just give all of the characters who go by one name full names, it's because I didn't want to shove in my own headcanons. (I sort of interjected mine, by giving initials, but I thought that was a neat compromise.) If you're curious what my actual headcanon names for Davenport and Lucretia are, it's Galen Davenport and Lucretia Beaumont. Don't ask why, they just felt right. 
> 
> In addition, I know Justin said that "Taaco" isn't really the twins' last name, but it's very widely used in the fandom and it's the best I've got. I won't be using Davenport and Lucretia's headcanon names in the future, by the way—I just needed something here to give these papers the illusion of formality.
> 
> So, yeah. This is what I decided to make the opening, because it's year zero, and before they even meet, and all that, just because it seemed appropriate for an opener. A reminder that they weren't meant to become what they became—the saviors of the universe. That they started out as some people looking for adventure, or scientific discovery, meant to only spend a few months away from home, instead of the rest of their lives. It's sobering, but almost inspirational to me, that you can find so much love and so much good even when your life isn't going according to plan... or if you're being chased by an eldritch monstrosity that devours worlds. Gives a bit of perspective, right?


End file.
